Clean Sweep


Deep in the heart of the mysterious, wooded, and highly misunderstood landmass known as Mississippi, tucked between the hillbilly foothills of Alabama and the alligator bayous of Louisiana, the sounds of squeaking bed springs and throaty moans filled Apartment 11H.

The leather-clad man crept slowly up the concrete stairs leading up to the apartment building's second floor, boots thunking heavily with each step. The scent of rose petals trailed behind him as he climbed. He reached the front door and tested the doorknob. To no one's surprise, it was locked tight. The man simply kept twisting, and the doorknob snapped off with a clank in his hand.

A small grin graced the man's thin lips as the front door creaked open slowly.

Stepping inside, he surveyed the dim interior of what he presumed to be the living room. His grin quickly turned to disgust at the awful sight. Beer bottles, cigarette butts, and empty food containers littered every available piece of furniture and coated the floor. His foot kicked something across the floor. Picking it up carefully with his thumb and forefinger, like one does a sweaty, wet gym sock, he examined it and saw it was a full cup of instant ramen. Nothing about the cup was out of the ordinary except for a suspicious circular hole that leaked water and… something else. With a grimace, he placed the ramen cup on top of the overflowing trash can by the front door.

He heard a scream above the lewd noises coming from down the hall and spun on his heel to see the source of the scream and the living room's only light source, a small screen television. Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill Volume 1 was playing. The grin returned to his lips; it was one of his favorite movies ever.

Walking into the small kitchenette, he observed a sink full of crusty week old dishes, empty drink bottles, and the remains of what could only be, hopefully, the remains of a half-eaten banana that had decided to sprout a lower form of life.

He rifled through various cupboards until his questing hands found something of interest. It was a box. Tipping it open, a single strawberry pop tart slid into his waiting palm.

The man nodded appreciatively and munched away on his snack as he continued to explore the rest of Apartment 11H.

The bathroom proved to be just as groady as the living room and kitchenette. Dirty clothes and towels were strewn everywhere, and the toilet looked radioactive. Much to his surprise, the toothbrush and toothpaste in the cup by the sink look well used. At least he kept his mouth clean.

The office across the hall yielded nothing more than just more clutter and trash everywhere.

Boats sliding silently along the carpeted floor, he neared the final door at the end of the hallway. The heady, rhythmic sounds were very loud now. He scrunched his nose in disgust before pushing open the door to the master bedroom.

A single shaft of yellow sunlight lanced through the closed blinds and landed on the bed, illuminating a tangle of three writhing bodies, one male, two females, writhing around in the horizontal tango of love making. He was very thankful the snow white bedsheets covered up the dirty deeds.

He stepped up to the bed, unsheathed his katana, and stained the sheets rose.